Touch
by Gun Brooke
Summary: Touching someone once is an occurrence, or should be. Andy is in the car with Miranda and unlikely things happen. Touching someone a second time, is a pattern, yes? How can you blame such a thing on a fork? Touching someone a third time, can be a
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Fox and Paramount own the rights to the movie and tv-show respectively. I only play with them for fun, and no copyright infringement is ever intended.  
><strong>Fandoms: <strong>The Devil Wears Prada

**Rating: **NC-17  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Andy/Miranda

**Prompt: **Feb 4, 2012 by mxrolkr on the DWP community on LiveJournal. _**"Once is an occurrence, Twice is a pattern, Three times...is a problem."**_

Summary: Touching someone once is indeed an occurrence, or should be. Andy is in the car with Miranda and unlikely things happen. Touching someone a second time, is a pattern, yes? How can you blame such a thing on a fork? Touching someone a third time, can be a problem, if it's the last time. But what if it is really the first. Does this saying start all over again?

**A/N:** This story is in three parts and it's ready to go up, I just need to make sure it's as proofread as I can manage. Part 2 should be up tomorrow (Feb 7).

Touch

A MirAndy A/U fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

_Once... is an occurrence…_

"Andrea, be ready to go in ten minutes." Miranda spoke in her trademark soft voice from her office. Like many times before, Andy was amazed how well that voice carried through the bustle of the busy office. People were always on the move, with or without clothes racks.

"Yes, Miranda." Andy busied herself fetching their coats and purses, and made sure she had her phone, different notebooks, and several pens. She had once tried taking notes on and iPad, which was doomed to fail. Regular pen and paper was the only failsafe method to keep up with Miranda and least likely to create problems.

Eight minutes later, Miranda strode toward the elevator, Andy hurrying behind her. Emily, the other assistant, had not looked too disappointed to be left alone in the office. Miranda had sent her on one mission after another among the different brand stores, and she was no doubt looking forward to taking off her Jimmy Choos and merely man the phones.

The elevator arrived just as Miranda and Andy approached. Stepping inside, Miranda motioned with her chin for Andy to join her, something that made the young woman manning Runway's front desk to gasp out loud. Andy had gone with her in different elevators despite Miranda's well known dislike for sharing. Just not at Elias-Clarke, until today.

The ride down was uneventful and quiet, Andy had half expected the elevator to get stuck between two floors or even plummet to the ground. Neither happened and she exited it and walked behind Miranda to the silver Mercedes. Roy, Miranda's perpetual driver, held up the door for their boss, and Andy scurried around the car and jumped inside.

Miranda gave the name of an Italian restaurant, and the Mercedes rolled into the dense traffic. "It might take us a little longer than normal to get there, Ms. Priestly, " Roy said. "There's a water leak on—"

"Just get us there." Miranda sighed. "How hard can it be to turn off a simple faucet?"

Andy knew better than to point out that a broken pipe is more complicated than that.

They sat in silence, the traffic around them reduced to a faint hum. Andy took the opportunity to go through some of Miranda's earlier notes and was glad to see she was pretty much on top of things. That said, Miranda would no doubt find a zillion things more for her to do before the day was over, but so far so good.

A muted sigh made Andy turn her head. Miranda had tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Her right hand lay motionless on her lap, but she used the left one to play with her necklace, pushing the slider back and forth. This chance to watch her boss relax, without Miranda knowing it, was a rare occasion. Andy couldn't remember ever seeing her like this.

Miranda sighed again. Suddenly she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, twice. Andy bit down hard to not moan at the unexpected display of such sensuality. To her surprise, Andy's nipples hardened at the sight, and she looked down at herself to make sure it didn't show. Reassured, Andy glanced over at Miranda again, and now she had to clench her thighs.

Miranda actually smiled. Very faintly, and obviously not at Andy, but she definitely played with her necklace, right above her cleavage, for heaven's sake, and she licked her lips and _smiled_. What the hell was going on? Andy couldn't have looked away if someone offered to pay her.

The car hit a pothole, or something, and jostled them. Miranda snapped her eyes open and her hand closed around the gold chain of her necklace. It broke and the slider fell off and disappeared into her blouse. Miranda gasped and looked over at Andy who merely stared, her mouth half open.

Miranda's cheeks turned a faint pink, and she looked like she couldn't make up her mind what to do. Andy couldn't blame her.

Pulling at the chain, Miranda handed that over to Andy. "Make sure Tiffany repairs this."

"Of course, Miranda."

Miranda looked uncomfortable and Andy discreetly turned, making sure she faced forward. She stared at the privacy screen that were almost all the way up to the celing, trying her very best to not glance sideways no matter how badly she wanted to watch Miranda feel inside her blouse for the slider.

"Damn." The soft curse said with Miranda's cotton-soft voice made Andy forget any such attempts.

"What's wrong?" _Damn indeed. _Andy had broken one of the rules. Already on her first day at Runway, Emily had told her never, ever to ask Miranda anything.

"I can't find it." Miranda looked flustered and annoyed.

"Can't find—oh. Really?" Andy pinched her own thigh, wondering if that counted as a second question.

"This is ridiculous. Obviously it's there, somewhere." Miranda pressed her lips to a fine line. "And I need to locate it. It's worth 9,000 dollars. Not to mention, it's a priceless heirloom."

Andy knew she had to ask a third time, but she dreaded it. "Can I help?"

Miranda jerked and stared at her with widening eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Help you find it? I mean, not, uhm, like touch, obviously, but your blouse is pretty, well, formfitting, so I might be able to…spot it?" God, she was rambling. Andy kept a polite smile, but she could feel her lips and hands trembling. No doubt, she was blushing as well.

"Very well. How you do propose you do this ocular inspection of me?"

Miranda was agreeing to this? Andy had suggested it, but was certain Miranda would shoot that idea down to crash and incinerate on impact. "You need to remove your coat." Andy spoke with fake certainty.

"Assist me." Miranda had already undone the belt when she tried to find the slider. Now she turned her back on Andy and shrugged out of the coat. Andy took it and gently shook it over the seat in case the elusive slider would be trapped in a fold. No such luck. Andy folded the coat and placed it across the backrest.

Miranda turned to face Andy, looking decidedly uncomfortable as she clasped her hands together. Andy did a quick sweep with her eyes over the lovely off-white blouse. The plunging neckline was enough to make anyone salivate, but Andy pushed such thoughts away. So far she didn't see anything bulge that shouldn't. "Turn a little to your left, please, Miranda."

Miranda inhaled deeply and complied. No little bumps of bulges.

"To the right?" Same thing there.

"I don't think I need to show you my back as it very clearly slipped down my front." Miranda spoke curtly.

"Can it perhaps gotten stuck…I mean, uhm…in your bra?" Andy felt like she was dying, but she had to ask.

"I don't know. I-I tried to check everywhere, but unless I undress completely—" Andy's sudden gasp made Miranda stop talking. "What?"

"Nothing." Oh, God, did Miranda just stutter? Andy could swear on her life she'd never heard Miranda falter in any way, shape or form. This force of nature that was her boss, who tore through life like an irrepressible steamroller, did not _stutter._ Andy thought fast. If Miranda lost face now, no matter why or how, Andy's life would suck big-time later. She also found the idea of Miranda being vulnerable somehow just wrong. At least being vulnerable in front of her, before Andy had a chance to…to…to somehow clarify that it was okay. Strange as it was, Andy knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted Miranda to truly trust her. See her. One way to accomplish this was to be matter-of-fact and not go all drama-queen à la Emily now. "Let's get this over with so you can focus on your meeting, Miranda." Surprised at her own rational tone, Andrea scooted closer. Faking complete calm, after all, faking worked if you did it well enough. No need to alert Miranda what a puddle this was turning Andy into. "Arms up."

"Excuse me?" Miranda glared at her.

"9,000 dollars heirloom, right?"

"Yes." Miranda squinted, looking positively menacing for a moment before sighing as she relented. "By all means." She raised her arms, placing her hands behind her neck, and, dear Lord, this actually made her arch toward Andy. The fabric of her blouse strained over perfectly sized breasts.

Curling her toes, Andy willed her hands to stay dry and steady. She patted down along Miranda's sides first, small movements. The only thing she felt under the fabric was warm, almost hot, skin and the faint trace of a lace bra. No sign of the slider. Next was her stomach. No chance in hell Andy was going to pat her down the same way there. Having been subjected to this in airports, Andy knew the security staff used the back of their hands which was considered less intrusive. She flipped her hands over and ran the back of her fingers over the area, starting an inch below Miranda's breasts. Damn. Nothing. "No luck yet," Andy murmured. She bit her lip before she apologized. She would not take the heat for this. "If I turn my back, you can examine your bra, perhaps?" Andy looked at the slightly flustered Miranda.

"Very well."

Andy turned around again, facing the front of the car. She heard Miranda shift on the seat. Suddenly she gasped. "Oh! Ow."

_Ow?_ Andy turned around without thinking at the pained sound. "Miranda?"

"Damn." Miranda was rubbing furiously at her left trapezius muscle. "Just a cramp."

"That doesn't look very effective." Andy moved in closer. "Here. Allow me." She pushed Miranda's hand away and placed both of hers around the smarting muscle group. Slow and deep, she massaged the painful area. The knots were large and hardly new, she surmised, and Andy suspected that trying to feel around in her bra had proved to be too awkward a position.

"Oh, that hurts." Miranda breathed deeply. "But it's helping. You're not entirely horrible at this."

"Why thank you. I used to massage my mother all the time. Especially since she insisted on baking bread a lot. Very tasty, but it did a number on her shoulders."

"I see." Miranda closed her eyes.

Andy leaned closer to get a firmer grip of the slender shoulders. "This okay?"

"Yes."

Somehow, Andy's eyes strayed and fastened upon the generous cleavage. Suddenly she saw something sparkle further down. Something worth 80,000 dollars most likely. "Uhm. Miranda? I think I see the slider from here." And now she'd be fired for ogling Miranda's breasts. Great.

"Grab it before we lose it again."

_We?_ Andy pursed her lips. "It's rather deep, I mean, down."

"If I try again, my shoulder is going to cramp up on me instantly. I can feel it. Just do it, Andrea."

Miranda had no idea what she asked for. Andy dug deep for courage and something else, perhaps self-restraint? "Okay. Here goes." She pushed her fingers together, trying in vain to avoid touching the soft skin that seemed to hug them. Feeling the slider against her fingertips, Andy gasped as it had wedged in between the bra wire and Miranda's skin. Andy dreaded her actions, but knew Miranda's wrath would supersede everything if she didn't rescue the freakin' heirloom. Her fingertip slid along the entire inside of Miranda's right breasts, pushed it aside, which made Miranda's breath hitch and dig her teeth into her lower lip. Quickly, Andy grabbed the slider, and pulled it out. She withdrew as quickly as she could without seeming impolite, or scared for that matter. "Here you go." Handing over the piece of jewelry, Andy smiled carefully.

Miranda in turn glowered at her, looking flustered. "Good." She took another deep breath. "Thank you."

Andy felt her jaw go slack, but then she closed it immediately. "Uhm. You're welcome." She almost added 'my pleasure', but that would've been too obvious.

"ETA the Italian restaurant in three minutes, Ms. Priestly." Roy's voice came via the speaker.

"When we're in the meeting, I expect you to be able to eat and work at the same time," Miranda said coolly. Clearly the surreal moment of massaging Miranda's shoulders and digging around in her cleavage was over and never to be spoken of. Ever.

"Of course, Miranda." Andy clenched her hands, trying to hold on to the memory of the soft, pale skin. She knew the topic of this anomalous moment would never be raised, but one thing was for sure. Andy would never forget it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Fox and Paramount own the rights to the movie and tv-show respectively. I only play with them for fun, and no copyright infringement is ever intended.  
><strong>Fandoms: <strong>The Devil Wears Prada

**Rating: **NC-17  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Andy/Miranda

**Prompt: **Feb 4, 2012 by mxrolkr on the DWP community on LiveJournal. _**"Once is an occurrence, Twice is a pattern, Three times...is a problem."**_

Summary: Touching someone once is indeed an occurrence, or should be. Andy is in the car with Miranda and unlikely things happen. Touching someone a second time, is a pattern, yes? How can you blame such a thing on a fork? Touching someone a third time, can be a problem, if it's the last time. But what if it is really the first. Does this saying start all over again?

**A/N:** This story is in three parts and it's ready to go up, I just need to make sure it's as proofread as I can manage. Part 3 should be up tomorrow (Feb 9)

Touch

A MirAndy A/U fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

_Twice… is a pattern…_

"Andrea." Miranda stopped by her desk. "What on earth are you wearing?"

"I'm sorry. I haven't had time to change yet. I came directly here from the hospital." Andy looked carefully at her boss. Miranda had started out sounding scandalized, but now a flicker of concern ghosted over her features.

"Hospital. Are you all right?"

"Uhm. Me? Oh, yeah, sure." Andy blinked at the question. When had Miranda ever asked any of her assistants anything like that? "I'm okay, thank you. It's my friend Doug. He had emergency surgery last night."

"Oh. I trust the young man is all right?" Miranda was rapping her impeccable nails on the top of Andy's computer screen as she spoke.

"He was awake enough to be adamant I should change before going into work." Andy smiled. "I told him I'd ask Nigel for something from the closet. If that's all right with you?"

"Of course it is. We can't have you looking like you're hired to paint the place. Massimo is coming with his investors after lunch."

"Unless you have something I need to do right away, I'll just pop over to the closet—"

"I'll go with you." Miranda turned around and headed for the door.

Stunned, Andy pushed away from her desk and hurried after her. She saw Emily do her best beached guppy impression, which she hardly could blame her for.

The closet seemed as endless as usual. Normally, Andy would ask one of the fashionistas there, or preferably Nigel, but now she was under Miranda's scrutiny, which meant the closet was abandoned.

"Now. Let's see. You're a four these days."

"I—"

"No, no. That wasn't a question. Let's see." Miranda walked up and down each rack, a slight frown on her forehead. She sometimes pulled out a hanger, but then put it back, shaking her head. "I know we had some Armani slacks…" she muttered.

Andy walked two steps behind hers, watching Miranda with fascination. She really couldn't care less what Miranda would ultimately decide on. In fact, Andy cared much more about what Miranda wore. The light grey pencil skirt hugged her perfectly rounded hips and ass, and the dark blue wrap-around blouse left her cleavage only partly obscured, but still on the right side of appropriate. Her black Louboutins made her legs look amazing. Then there was the way Miranda talked to herself, muttering, humming, and the faces she made, little grimaces that were subtle, but spoke volumes. Like right now, when she pulled out a lilac blouse and it was clearly not her forte. She did all but roll her eyes over the hanger toward Andy.

Eventually Miranda had picked two pairs of slacks, both Armani, and three tops from different designers. "Here. Try these on."

"Okay. Thanks." Andy took the hangers and walked to the dressing room area. Miranda strolled behind her and gracefully sat down on one of the armchairs, clearly intent on waiting.

Shaking her head in bewilderment, Andy stepped inside and took off her jeans and t-shirt. She realized one of her dilemmas as soon as she tried the first top. It wasn't see-through, but it was too thin to wear without a bra. Escorting Doug to the ER had not entailed thinking about lingerie, or even a sports bra. It had been a 'call paramedics and pray his appendix wouldn't rupture" kind of situation.

"Miranda. I think I need another top. More sturdy, kind of?" Andy made a face behind the curtain, waiting for a scathing remark.

"Why?" Miranda asked and then a slender hand pushed the fabric between them away.

Andy had removed the top and stood there in just the Armani slacks that actually fit her like they were custom made. "Oh." Andy fought not to cover herself like a bashful Victorian maiden. "As you can tell. No bra today." She couldn't stop herself from blushing though.

"I see." Miranda gripped the curtain hard and ran her tongue along her lips. Her cheeks became faintly pink. "34 C?"

"Yes." Andy wanted to shrink back and not have Miranda peruse the body she once had deemed as fat. Most of the models Runway worked with were A or AA when it came to cup sizes, and Andy hadn't been that small since middle-school.

Miranda left and then came back with a set of La Perla lingerie. The light-blue lace was so sheer, Andy wondered if it would actually do her any good.

"Change everything and wear the whole set." Miranda spoke curtly. "Hurry back when you're done. Either of those tops will be a good choice. She nodded and then left.

Andy ended up choosing a top a few shakes darker than the lingerie. Returning to the office with her jeans and t-shirt in a Runway bag, she only shrugged when Emily glared at her.

"I'm off to run errands for Miranda." Emily put on her coat. "You were gone so long so now I'm _late_."

"Well, I'm here now." Andy was too preoccupied thinking about what just happened in the Closet, to worry about ticking Emily off.

The phone kept ringing like mad until it was time for lunch. Miranda had asked Emily to order food from Wollensky's and now a young man was standing just outside the door, looking nervous. Clearly not a first time delivery for this guy. Andy smiled warmly as she tipped him from the petty cash. She brought the bag into the kitchen and opened the boxes. Staring at the two large steaks, she blinked. Was someone joining Miranda for lunch, or was she just super hungry?

"One is for you," Miranda said from behind, making Andy jump and nearly bite her tongue. "Oh, my. You scare easily, don't you? Don't look at me like that, Andrea. You have to eat, don't you? I can't imagine that you got something worth eating for breakfast while waiting for updates on your friend?"

"Uhm, no. Thank you." Andy was ready to feel for antennas beneath the silver-white hair. Surely a body snatcher was at large at Runway? Not commenting any further, Andy put together two plats of steaks and steamed vegetables, sprinkled some chopped herbs on top and carried Miranda's tray into her office. As she walked back to retrieve her own, she had just placed the try on her desk when she heard Miranda say, "Have your lunch in here, Andrea."

Andy wondered if she was meant to bring her notebook. Knowing hos Miranda hated delays, she put it on the tray together with a pen, just in case.

"Good. I've cleared a spot for you." Miranda had actually _waited_ for Andy, and that she'd moved things off her desk so they could share, was mind-blowing.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and Andy decided this was the best steak she'd had since she left Cincinnati. Miranda at half of hers and then pushed the plate aside. Immediately, Andy put her knife and fork down too. "Want me to bring you a Starbucks?"

"No. Well, later, but I want you to finish your meal."

"Oh. Thanks." Andy knew her eyes must be like saucers by now. And 'Miranda's' antenna's should be showing. This was getting stranger by the minute.

"The office can be quite tranquil when everybody else is out to lunch, don't you agree?" Miranda played with her necklace, this time not the pricy heirloom that got trapped in her bra a while back. Still the memory made Andy press her thighs together. She knew she'd never forget the moment when her fingers touched and pressed against Miranda Priestly's breast. How was it that this moment stood out clearer to her, than her hottest sessions with Nate, her former boyfriend?

"Yes, it's nice to rest your ears as well as your mind."

"So true. You would think that walking on marble should be easy once you've gotten used to it. I swear half the office staff thinks they're models on the catwalk stuck in the nineties when stomping was in."

Andy couldn't help but laugh. The image Miranda conjured up was irresistible. She could easily picture the clackers as model-wannabees and especially a couple of them who hated her with a passion merely for having frequent access to Miranda. Andy's laughter faded when she saw Miranda's rapt attention.

"You really have the most amazing smile." Miranda looked thoughtful as she raised the slider on its long chain and rubbed it against her lips.

"Thank you?" Andy could hardly breathe. Miranda liked her smile?

"I normally scoff at the expression 'she lights up the entire room' when it comes to smiling, but in your case…I think you're the exception to that. You do."

Andy blinked. She did what? Light up a room? Really? She wanted to ask for a clarification, preferably in writing since she had stopped trusting her ears around Miranda, but of course she didn't. "You should smile more often."

"Excuse me?" Miranda seemed pulled out of deep thoughts.

"Smile. More often." Oh, God. Andy winced. What was she thinking?

"I would find that detrimental to my objectives at work." Miranda tilted her head, tapping her index finger against her lower lip. "But when it's just us, I will attempt it. Fair enough?"

"S-sure." Andrea knew she was breathing faster than usual. What had started out as being out of breath was quickly heading for hyper-ventilating.

Miranda incinerated what was left of Andy's mind by leaning forward and taking Andy's hand across the table. "I can tell that you're confused, Andrea. I know I normally don't pick out your clothes or ask you to share your lunch hour with me."

"My fifteen minutes, you mean." Andy gave a crooked smile.

"Yes." Miranda acknowledged her words by dipping her head once. "I wish I could give you a simple, all-encompassing reason, but I can't. I rarely do things at the spur of the moment, but today I did. Twice."

"I don't mind. I mean, I appreciate it. Whether you meant for it to happen or not, I still felt kind of special." Andy wasn't sure where the honesty came from, but she could tell that Miranda was focusing on her every word. "I would never assume—oh, shoot."

Andy's fork had decided to live a life of its own and jumped across the desk and down on the floor next to Miranda. Andy gasped and rose, rounding the desk. Bending down, she tried to spot the missing fork, and then she saw something glimmer just in front of Miranda's Louboutins.

"Oh, there it is. If you just back up a bit, yes, like so." Andy reached in to get the fork, and that's when it happened. Miranda shifted and moved her right foot just as Andy extended her arms. This mean she accidentally slid her hand up along the inside of Miranda's calf, knee and thigh, clearly right where her stockings ended and velvet skin began. Mortified, but unable to change her trajectory as she lost her balance and fell forward. Flailing, Andy grabbed for the armrests of Miranda's chair, but they were too high up. Instead she found herself hanging onto Miranda's knees while trying to regain her balance.

Miranda placed her hands on top of Andy's and held them in place. "Are you all right?" She raised an eyebrow. "Or are you just intent on looking for more expensive jewelry. I can assure you, I have no jewelry under my skirt."

"Oh, God, Miranda. I'm so sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to—" Andy tried to get up, to remove her hands from Miranda's knees, and the whole time trying _not_ to think about the brief sensation of feeling how soft Miranda's thighs were. To her astonishment, Miranda kept Andy's hands in place, not taking her eyes off her. She didn't seem angry, if anything she looked just a tad amused. Eventually she removed her hands and Andy could pick up the fork and get off the floor.

As it turned out, she barely made it out into the kitchen before Emily returned. As the other assistant hung clothes on the rack and stashed different items underneath, Andy rinsed off the plates and put them in the dishwasher. When she was done, she grabbed her coat and poked her head in to Miranda's office just as Massimo Corteleone and his crew entered. "I'll be back with your Starbucks, Miranda. Mr. Corteleone, would you or any of your party like some Starbucks as well?"

"How thoughtful of you," Massimo said, beaming. "She's a pearl, this young woman, Miranda. "He winked at Andy. I'll have a latte, please." He ran his eyes over her as the other three listed their coffee preference. Andy maintained her best non-committal expression, but nearly faltered when she suddenly saw the fury in Miranda's voice. The strange thing was, it wasn't directed at Andy, but at Massimo who only now realized that he had done something to anger the Devil. Andy was at a total loss as to why, and hurrying out the door toward Starbucks, she had a feeling so was Massimo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Fox and Paramount own the rights to the movie and tv-show respectively. I only play with them for fun, and no copyright infringement is ever intended.  
><strong>Fandoms: <strong>The Devil Wears Prada

**Rating: **NC-17  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Andy/Miranda

**Prompt: **Feb 4, 2012 by mxrolkr on the DWP community on LiveJournal. _**"Once is an occurrence, Twice is a pattern, Three times...is a problem."**_

Summary: Touching someone once is indeed an occurrence, or should be. Andy is in the car with Miranda and unlikely things happen. Touching someone a second time, is a pattern, yes? How can you blame such a thing on a fork? Touching someone a third time, can be a problem, if it's the last time. But what if it is really the first. Does this saying start all over again?

**A/N:** This story is in three parts and it's ready to go up, I just need to make sure it's as proofread as I can manage. Part 2 should be up tomorrow (Feb 7).

Touch

A MirAndy A/U fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

_Three Times… is a problem…_

"So, it's your last day at Runway tomorrow." Nigel stopped by Andy's desk. "How does that feel, Six?"

"You really should call me Four these days, Nigel." Andy smiled broadly at the fashion director. "And it feels great, for the most part. I'll miss all of you."

"Ah, don't be silly. We'll still get together." Nigel winked at her. "Even old Em over there is thawing."

"I'm not." Emily huffed. "I'm busy trying to train that horrible little person that's taking Andy's place. I mean, how I'm supposed to rely on her to do what Andy does…" Emily gave a dramatic sigh.

"So, do I take it you don't think I've been completely worthless?" Andy wrinkled her nose and laughed.

"Only barely," a familiar soft voice said from behind. "And your new editor-in-chief will no doubt benefit from all you've learned here. Goodness knows that rag can use some work ethic." Miranda looked coolly at the trio. "And as you're still being paid by Runway and Elias-Clarke, I hope we'll benefit from your efforts today and tomorrow."

"Absolutely, Miranda. What can I do for you?" Andy refused to let Miranda intimidate her. As much as she was mourning for not being able to see Miranda anymore, Andy knew it was right for her to move on. Working as a junior reporter for the Mirror was going to be her launching pad.

Miranda blinked. "Deliver the 'Book' tonight, and then hand your key over to Emily who will take over that duty until New Girl turns out to be reliable. Although from what I overheard, she has some major shoes to fill."

"At least she doesn't have to fill my size of clothes," Andy dared joke. "I'm a four and she must be a two, or even smaller."

"There is nothing wrong with your size." Miranda spoke darkly and then walked into her office, flipping open her MacBook.

"What was that?" Nigel hissed, his eyes huge.

"No clue." Andy shrugged. Miranda had been acting odd for weeks, and when Andy handed in her two week notice, she had been aloof and downright withdrawn. While Andy walked around with mixed emotions and trying to hide the half that was heartache for having to leave the woman who'd come to mean everything to her, Miranda showed nothing. 

###

Andy unlocked the door to the townhouse after waving goodbye to the driver who'd brought her, Miranda's dry-cleaning, and the 'Book' safely there. She didn't mind walking through the streets to the metro. She was used to it, and this last time, she wanted to experience it once more.

She hung the dry-cleaning in the closet across from the staircase, and was about to place the 'Book' on the side table when she heard Miranda's, "I'm up here, Andrea."

Andrea gazed up the stairs with trepidation. Did Miranda mean she should bring the 'Book' up? Why else would she tell her where she was? Muttering under her breath, Andy held the 'Book' as a shield. Who knew what mood Miranda was in?

Miranda sat on the couch in the den. A fire crackled in the large fire place, and two—_two?_—glasses of red wine sat on the coffee table. Was there someone else there? Had Andy interrupted some secret tryst or—"

"Sit down, Andrea. I thought we'd talk some in private. Tomorrow the rest of the staff will fawn over you all day, no doubt."

"Oh. Okay." Andrea handed over the 'Book', which ended up on a shelf behind the couch without as much as a glance. Aiming for the armchair, Andrea flinched as Miranda spoke again.

"No. Not there. Sit here, by me."

Moving, Andy sat down a couple of feet from Miranda, lacing her fingers on her lap. "Feels weird," she confessed.

"What does?" Miranda raised an eyebrow as she handed Andy a glass.

"That this is the last time I'm delivering the 'Book'. I'll miss it."

"Late evenings, when you could've gone out with friends, or lounged around at home, or carried out a hobby? You'll miss that?" Miranda's words were taunting, but her voice sounded sad.

"I'll miss the occasions when you actually showed me some of your notes, confided your thoughts about designers and layout in me. Those evening were worth waiting for." Andy sipped her wine. Smooth and soft it ran down her throat, warming her belly. "I also want to thank you for the letter of recommendation you gave the editor-in-chief at the Mirror. I was worried."

"That I would go back on my word?"

"No. That I had done something to anger you, or disappoint you, since—" Andy stopped talking, her throat suddenly clenching.

"Yes?" Miranda leaned back against the couch, her position almost the same as in the car several months ago, before her necklace broke. Now, Miranda was dressed in a soft, light grey cashmere top, and dark-blue True Religion jeans. Holy smokes, Miranda in jeans. It was almost too much for Andy's heart. Miranda tilted her head, reminding Andy she was still expecting an answer.

"Well, you've been busy, of course, lately. And you've had a lot to do with finalizing the divorce, I know that too. And still…" Andy swallowed hard. "I've felt as if you've been displeased with me, or something about me. I don't know what I did, or didn't, do. I just know I don't want us to part with anything unspoken, or unresolved, between us."

"You're right." Miranda twirled her glass, looking down at the dark red liquid. "I've kept a distance, yes. Or I've tried. I don't know what it is about you, Andrea, that makes it damn near impossible for me to stay away."

Andy gasped. She felt her hands begin to tremble and she quickly placed the glass back on the coffee table before she spilt red wine on the light blue rug or broke Miranda's crystal. "What do you mean?"

"Let's go back to that time in the car. I take it you remember the time when I had a, hm, jewelry malfunction?" Miranda put her glass down as well and shifted until her knee barely touched Andy's.

"Oh, God, yes. How could I forget? I was so sure you were going to fire me." Andy groaned as she actually could feel the sensation of Miranda's breast against her fingertips.

"And I was certain that I had overstepped enough boundaries for you to sue." Miranda spoke so quietly, Andy had to lean in to hear what she was saying.

"Sue? Whatever for?" Andy frowned. She wasn't following.

"Honestly, Andrea. What took place in the car was more than enough for you to have a successful sexual harassment case against me."

"But—but why? Surely you must've felt that it was not just—I mean, I was affected. I wasn't sure about you, of how you were feeling, but…I would never have betrayed you like that. I've never had reason to feel coerced in any way."

Miranda raised a trembling hand and placed it over her mouth. Her eyes, huge and darker blue than normal, gazed at Andy. Drawing several deep breaths, Miranda let her hand fall into her lap. "Then there was the second time. In the Closet."

"Yes?" Andy tried to follow Miranda's train of thoughts. "Did you think this emphasized the risk of me suing?"

"No. Well, it could have, theoretically, but most of all, it showed me that I needed to keep my distance. Whenever I looked at you, I saw that sight from the dressing room. I've seen enough naked women in my time, being around models on a daily basis. It never bothered me one way or another before."

Andy's heart beat so hard it hurt her ribcage. "So what was different now?"

"The _difference_ is you. You. A girl half my age. My subordinate." Miranda sounded angry and in pain. Andy acted on impulse and took her hand in hers.

"Miranda, I think you know that I would do everything for you." Andy spoke with emphasis. "You know that. I have jumped through hoops at work for almost two years. Even if I hadn't, I would do that and more for you in private. I realize that you will have to be safe around the people who work for you, but trust me when I say this didn't enter my mind. Call me naïve, but that time in the car, I felt I was the one using _you._ I was afraid that you'd accuse me for taking the chance to 'cop a feel'."

"Andrea!" Miranda looked scandalized.

"Well, yeah. Since we're sharing our secrets here, sort of, you might as well know how scared I was that you'd know how my body chose to react to your closeness, to touching your skin, even if I did it to help you." Andy kept Miranda's hand in hers. She let her thumb caress the back of it, tracing the soft skin, and the knuckles.

"I want to hear about this reaction." Miranda swallowed hard.

"Really?" Andy looked up. "You sure?"

"Andrea…"

"All right, all right. You're sure." Andy squeezed Miranda's hand. "You started by leaning back and arching your back. I'm not sure if anyone's told you how sexy that looks? Either way, it is. Super-hot."

"I see." Miranda didn't give anything away, but she clung to Andy's hand. Always something.

"So, then you wanted me to do an ocular examination of your upper body. I thought I was going to faint. I've studied you many times in secret, and now I was this close, and you'd given me permission to more or less ogle you."

"Andrea, really." Miranda huffed. "I never said 'please, ogle me'."

"Not in so many words, but you get the point." Andy closed her eyes briefly. "Then, and that's when I thought I was going to die young in a heart attack. You told me to just dive in there and fish out the heirloom. I don't think you can imagine what it felt like." Andy couldn't look at Miranda, but clung to her hand. "You smelled so good, you always do. Your skin was velvety, warm, and so soft. I tried to be quick, but the darn thing was wedged in and when fumbled to dislodge it, part of me…well, let's just says, I was ready to howl."

"You paint a very vivid picture." Miranda's soft voice didn't give away much of her emotional state, but the fact that she was not shocked or angry, was encouraging. "Guess it's only fair that I return the favor. Let's skip forward a few weeks, till that morning when you came to work in old jeans and a ratty t-shirt."

"All right." Andy carefully raised her eyes to meet Miranda's, only to find her in the 'sexy arching position' again. Swallowing, Andy pressed her legs tightly together.

"I enjoyed choosing clothes for you in the Closet. I've done this so many times, professionally, for models at shoots, and so on. Now, all of a sudden, I felt quite giddy, and I enjoyed it, even your confusion since you had no idea why I was doing this."

"I still don't."

"So, when you asked for, what was it, oh, yes, a sturdier top, I wasn't thinking. I pulled the curtain back and there you were. Half dressed. Looking so beautiful, so sensual. Now it was my turn to hide my reaction. I found out in no uncertain terms just how strong I could react to you. It was very powerful, but nothing like when you knelt at my feet and pushed your hands up my skirt."

"Miranda! I didn't do that! I mean, I sort of did, but it wasn't intentional."

"I know. Sorry to say." Miranda raised her head and met Andy's eyes.

"Sorry? You're sorry I wasn't coming onto you and assaulting you under your desk?"

"I admit the timing was lacking, but yes, I must admit my imagination played with such scenarios, before and after."

"B-before?" Sure she was having audio hallucinations, Andy squirmed at the ache between her legs. Her nipples were now so hard, every movement against her top was almost painful.

"Oh, yes. Am I alone in that? Have you never fantasized?" Miranda began to look alarmed.

"Yes. Yes. Of course I had, I just never thought you did. About me."

"Andrea. If you'd known, I would've been in so much trouble. The only reason I can tell you know is that you're leaving." Miranda moved closer and slid her hands up Andy's arm. "You're leaving and I don't want you to."

"I'm leaving Runway." Andrea breathed deeply. "Not you."

"I hope you mean that." Miranda sounded like she dreaded the possibility that Andy might not mean it.

"Oh, I do." Andy "I'd do anything for you."

"So if I asked you to undress, you would?"

Andy looked at the clear and present vulnerability in Miranda's eyes. "Yes."

"And if I asked you to kneel at my feet, and part my legs, push your hands up my skirt, you would?"

"Yes." Andy could hardly speak, but she had to be honest.

"The question is why?" Miranda tilted her head, running her fingers under Andy's collar. "Why would you do this so willingly?"

"Because it's you." Andy sobbed as tears spilled over. "It's been you, only you, for a long time."

"Andrea." Miranda wiped at the tears, as if trying to erase them from Andy's cheeks. "Please, don't cry. Trust me, I'm not worth crying over."

"I'm not crying over you." Andrea hiccupped. "I'm just relieved. I didn't want to leave Runway feeling the way I do and never be able to tell you. I would've always wondered if I hadn't."

"And my feelings? Where do they fit in?"

"I never dared to dream you'd regard me in any personal way at all." Andy sighed and leaned forward, hiding her face in Miranda's lap. "I never thought I had any effect on you whatsoever. Now…I'm confused. I would do all that you ask of me, want from me, and if you want me to leave you be, please, tell me now?"

Miranda ran her fingers through Andy's hair, over and over. "I can't. I can't tell you that, no matter how some part of my conscience says I should." She pushed Andy up and back onto the couch. "What I want is to see you smile and laugh, and light up a room, something you do so well…such a unique quality. I want to watch you succeed and be the amazing writer I know you'll be." Miranda began unbuttoning Andy's top. "And I want you naked, with me, in my bed. I want you under me, over me, between my legs, straddling me, any which way we can think of. I want you to demand things of me, and I want to bury myself in you."

She leaned in, agonizingly slow, and brushed her lips over Andy's. Miranda's lips. Soft as petals, but strong as they returned and parted hers. Andy was more than willing, she was desperate to touch and taste. She deepened the kiss, welcomed Miranda's tongue and finally—finally!—her senses began to fill with the sensational, mind-blowing drug that was Miranda Priestly. Andy knew no one had ever made her feel this way, no kiss had made her body react like this, pulling all the stops. Almost bracing for impact, Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda's neck, tilting her head for better access. Miranda moaned into her mouth, which made all her little hairs stand up. Andy shivered and pushed her fingers into Miranda's silver-white hair.

"I just can't keep my hands off you. God knows there have been times I thought it was possible, but all you had to do was turn on that breath-taking smile…or look at me with that…that _hunger_ in those eyes." There was something desperate in the way Miranda spoke. She drew a hot trail with her tongue up along Andy's neck and then nipped with sharp teeth along her jawline.

"God, Miranda!" Andy pulled Miranda's blouse from her skirt. "I've dreamt, fantasized, and gotten myself off thinking of you." She gazed at the black La Perla lace bra, her breathing labored. "You're so beautiful." Cupping both breasts through the bra, she felt the hard nipples against her palms.

"Andrea, come to bed with me?" Miranda ran her index finger along Andy's lower lip. "Please? And stay the night? You can ride in with me tomorrow."

"Oh. Wow." Andy rose and extended her hand at Miranda. "Show me your parlor, my queen."

"Silly girl." Miranda made sure the fire was dying down and then guided Andrea to her bedroom. She methodically undressed Andy, hung the garments over a chair, and then pointed at her bed. "Go sit over there."

Andy complied and watched with eager eyes how Miranda undressed without any drama, or seductive moves, which made it all the more sensual to Andy. Once she was naked, Miranda looked almost shy as she approached the bed.

"I've never had a female lover, Andrea."

"I haven't had a female lover, per se, but, with the risk of sounding like a college cliché, I did fool around with a girl in a semi-innocent sort of way. Our clothes were never off, and we only did some kissing and fondling, so I suppose it doesn't really count."

Miranda motioned for Andy to slide back against the pillows. "Then we'll learn together, yes?"

"Yes. Oh, God, yes." Andy sighed. She wanted to feel Miranda against her, but on the other hand she wanted to look, wanted to see that it was indeed this woman, the amazing, beautiful woman whom she'd desired and loved for so long, without ever daring to hope that any of her dreams might come to fruition.

Slender, but curvaceous, pale, but warm, and sexy, but approachable, Miranda laid down next to her, supporting her head in her hand as she studied Andy in a similar manner.

"Tell me, what you thought of when you touched yourself. Show me how you touched yourself."

"Miranda?" Andy squeaked. "I can't do that? You'll think…what if that turns you off?"

Miranda laughed. A thoroughly happy sound that filled Andy's chest with even more tenderness. "Don't be ridiculous, Andrea. Do you really think there is anything about you that could turn me off? I should be awarded a medal for not pouncing on you and having my way as we speak." Her eyes radiated a fierce arousal.

"I'm all for that, actually." Andy smiled faintly. "Pouncing."

"So am I—after you tell me your fantasy. Would it help if I hold my hand over yours while you touch yourself? That way I'll know what you enjoy when it's time for me to pounce."

"Damn. This is setting a terrible precedence. You'll most likely be able to talk me into just about anything." Andy groaned and pressed her head back into the pillow. That could be a problem."

"No problem from my perspective. At all." Miranda placed her hand over Andy's right one. "Yes?"

Taking a few deep breaths, in case she forgot to breathe later, Andy moved her hands to her stomach and then slowly slid them upward. "I thought of us in the car," she confessed, feeling exposed. "Even before the jewelry malfunction, I used to fantasize that we'd be going somewhere out of town and Roy would bring the privacy screen up so we could rest. We'd both fall asleep and I'd accidentally slide toward you and end up with my head on your lap." Andy cupped her own breasts and rubbed them until her nipples prodded her palms. She thought she could hear Miranda breathe faster, but she didn't dare look at her directly. "You'd wake up, and be all annoyed at first. I'd apologize profusely, saying I was sorry, and begin to pull back. Then you'd take me by the shoulders and keep me in place, asking pointed questions about 'what I was trying to pull'."

Andy tugged at her nipples, rolled it between her fingers. She whimpered quietly, feeling Miranda's hand on top of her own, the slender fingers following in the pinch-pull-roll kind of dance. "That's when I could sense your arousal again. Your scent, that seductive, amazing scent."

"_Again?_ You're saying you've smelled me? I mean _ me_, not my perfume?" Miranda sounded vulnerable.

"I did. Twice." Andy began pushing her right hand down her stomach. "In the car, and…when I knelt next to you to get the fork. It sure fed my fantasies. So, there we are in the car, I can sense you and all I want is to please you. I ask permission, and you turn your head away, looking, not angry, but apprehensive."

Andy spread her legs and knew Miranda must be able to smell her now. She was so wet, she was afraid she might ruin the duvet. She ran her fingertips up and down, barely touching herself, just grazing the trimmed curls. "When I hear you say yes, I carefully push your skirt up and that's when I see…you aren't wearing any panties. That's when I know how much I truly want you. " Andy pushed her fingers in between her folds. "I want you so much and…oh…oh, God…" Miranda added to the pressure between Andy's legs, as she caressed herself. "I put my lips against you, spread you, taste you, over and over and over…Miranda…"

"So you had me there in the car, naked under my skirt, your lips on me, licking me as we ride the car through Manhattan?" Miranda growled softly and pushed Andy's hand away, replacing it with her own. "You wicked, wicked girl."

"Ah!" Andy arched, close to screaming at the sensation of Miranda's fingers among all that wetness. "Oh, please, Miranda. I'm not going to last. I can't… the way you touch me…how do you know? How?" Andy saw tiny sparkles behind her eyelids, and they grew in size as she undulated against Miranda's hand. When she opened her eyes, she saw Miranda study her with greedy eyes. "Please, Miranda. Oh…please."

"Come for me, Andrea." Miranda pushed her fingers inside. "Now."

Andy moaned and her hips began convulsing and soon engaged her entire body. She burned and came again, curled up around Miranda's hand as she rubbed her palm against Andy's clitoris. She slumped back and was immediately wrapped up in strong arms that rocked her, accompanied by Miranda's infamous, soft-spoken voice that somehow made Andy feel so safe and warm.

Andy greedily inhaled, trying to clear her head after the massive orgasm. She had not expected it to feel like this. World-changing. Next to her, Miranda was shifting restlessly, her breathing uneven. "Oh, Miranda. I know. You need me." Andy rolled onto her side and wrapped her lips around Miranda's left nipple, sucking it deep into her mouth. Her hand found the drenched folds between the silky white thighs that had been on her mind ever since she touched them inadvertently in the office. "Is all that wetness for me?" Andy didn't hesitate. She just knew Miranda wanted her to take charge, to claim her without preamble, and so she did. Andy began a slow thrust with her hand, Miranda gave a low growl, which turned into a keening sound as she pressed her hips closer to Andy.

"Andrea…Andrea." Miranda cupped Andy's face and kissed her. She deepened it, her tongue mimicking the movement of Andy's fingers. To her surprise, Andy's body began to throb again. Miranda's sexy sounds, the whimpers and moans, the way she sucked at Andy's lips and played with her tongue, was enough to get her going all over again.

"Miranda." Andy spoke into Miranda's mouth. "Touch me."

"Yes!" Miranda cupped Andy, rubbing her palm against her. "So hot."

"You too."

It didn't take Miranda long after that before she arched, jerked, and cried out Andy's name several times. "Andrea! You burn me. God, you burn me." Slumping back, she pulled Andy with her and pushed a leg between hers. "Move against me. Let me feel you on top of me. Please…" Miranda gasped for air. "I need to feel you."

Shaking from the new onslaught of arousal, Andy rode Miranda's slender, slick thigh in long, languid movements, which quickly escalated from calm to frantic. Miranda pulled her closer, kissed her neck with parted lips

"I'm so close. So close." Andy held onto Miranda's shoulders. "My nipples. Touch me."

Miranda cupped her breasts and then began to roll the pebbled nipples, pinching them until the pleasure was almost pain. Unable to stop what was happening, and why would she want to, Andy thought foggily. Suddenly, Miranda let go and flipped Andy over onto her back. Kissing her way down Andy's stomach, she hummed and murmured inaudible words. Andy missed the pressure of Miranda's thigh and whimpered as she moved restlessly beneath the voracious lips.

"Mir-Miranda?"

"You never asked about my daydreams or fantasies," Miranda said and nipped at the skin above Andy's hipbone.

"Uhm…I…oh, God…tell me?"

"You imagined going down on me in the car, right?" Miranda looked up and smiled ferally.

"Yes?" Andy could hardly believe she heard the words "going down on me" from Miranda's lips. Miranda normally spoke so precisely, with a vocabulary that was as scathing as it was extensive.

"I had a similar dream." Miranda drew maddening patterns with the tip of her tongue. "But not in the car. Oh no. In my mind, there was only one place I would have my way with you."

"Mmmm." Andy couldn't form any sort of work no matter how she tried.

"I would take you to Paris again. When you came to my room to discuss my itinerary, I would be waiting in my robe. The grey silk one that made you look at me with those imploring eyes." Miranda moved further down, nudging Andy's legs further apart. "I would have some excuse to make you undress. Try on something for a function." Out of breath, Miranda moaned as she settled between Andy's legs, running her nails through the wet folds.

Andy whimpered, her hips moving restlessly. "Oh, God…"

"When you were undressed, I'd 'help' you try the dress out and then take it off. In the meantime, I would make sure I'd touch you in a way that was perfectly innocent, but overt enough for you to be so turned on, you would be panting like you do now. Begging me with your eyes, like you do now."

"Oh, damn, Miranda…"

"I would help you relax on the couch, offer you something to drink, seduce you softly, slowly, and when you were delirious, like you are now, I would do this." Miranda parted Andy's folds and plunged her tongue inside. She flicked it from side to side, teased the entrance until Andy was sobbing from the near-pain.

"Please. Please." Andy could hardly speak.

Miranda flattened her tongue against Andy's clit, pressed at it in small circles, humming as she caressed it. Andy closed her eyes, arched her back and cried out Miranda's name as the orgasm tore through her. Tears flowed freely and Andy thought her chest was going to implode from the strength of it all. Sobbing, she felt for Miranda, wanted the closeness from earlier.

"Andrea…" Miranda suddenly had her arms around Andy, rocking her gently. "There. It's all right."

"I-I'm not sad." Crying quietly, Andy hid her face against Miranda's neck. "I never dared to hope for any of this. Let alone the fact that you had your fantasize about touching me back."

"This was just one of them." Miranda kissed the top of Andy's head.

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I have a confession," Andy murmured, knowing she had to say this now or she would chicken out.

"What is it?" Miranda pulled back enough to gaze at Andy. Her look was soft, but apprehensive.

"I love you."

Miranda stared at her in silence for a few moments. Then a tiny smile curled her lips. "You are nothing short of amazing. I don't deserve you, but nevertheless, I love you too, Andrea."

Andy blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I know we have lots to talk about, soon, but right now, that's all I need to know."

"I agree." Miranda tucked the duvet in around them. "Close your eyes, Andrea. We have to be up early tomorrow. My assistant is leaving me, and my, uhm, girlfriend, has entered. A lot going on as you can tell."

"Busy day, yeah. I hear you." Nuzzling Miranda's soft neck, Andy listened to the steady heartbeat of the woman she loved. Tomorrow would be busy. No doubt the Runway minions had planned some send-off for her. On Monday, her new life as a reporter would begin.

Andrea kissed Miranda's neck again. "'Night."

"Good night." Miranda held Andy closer, pushing her hair back from her face.

So many wonderful things were about to happen, but the best thing of all had already occurred. She loved Miranda, and, miracle of miracles, Miranda loved her back.

**THE END**


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